Chapter 7
Hazel’s words echo in my head like a broken record as I sit frozen in the patio chair, watching her taillights disappear down Main Street.
Her voice keeps replaying—cold, controlled, but underneath it all, devastated.
Like someone who’s been carrying a wound for eight years and finally let it bleed.
“If they found out what you did to me, they would have turned their backs on you. And while you hurt me, I would never do to you what you did to me.”
What I did to her?
I rack my brain, searching through every memory from that last month before she left. What the hell is she talking about?
We’d been together for four years.
Four years.
Since we were seventeen and eighteen, fumbling through first love and growing up together. Sure, things had been tense those last few weeks—Brittany had suddenly started paying attention to me again after years of acting like I didn’t exist, and Hazel had been insanely jealous about it.
I remember the fights. Hazel snapping at me whenever Brittany was around, making snide comments, accusing me of encouraging her. It was frustrating as hell because I wasn’t encouraging anything. Brittany meant nothing to me. Less than nothing.
But what did I do?
What did I do that was so terrible Hazel couldn’t even tell her own family about it?
The afternoon she left, I’d gone to pick up the ring.
The engagement ring I’d been saving for since I turned twenty, working construction jobs every summer, working in orchards during harvest season, putting away every dollar I could.
I was going to propose at the Harvest Festival that year—our spot by the gazebo where we’d had our first kiss, surrounded by the autumn she loved so much.
I was twenty-one and so fucking sure I knew what forever looked like.
When I got back to the Brennen house with the ring burning a hole in my pocket, she was loading the last of her bags into the rental car. Her face was a mask I’d never seen before—cold, distant, like she was looking at a stranger.
“I’m leaving,” she said, like she was commenting on the weather.
“What do you mean, leaving?”
“For California. I got a job at a tech startup in Los Angeles. I’m leaving tonight.”
The words hit me like a physical blow.
“Tonight? What about us? What about—”
“There is no us, Luke.” Her voice was flat, final. “I’m tired of this town. I’m tired of being suffocated by everyone’s expectations. I want more than this place has to offer.”
That’s when she’d said the words that shattered me:
“You’re boring, Luke. This whole town is boring. I need something bigger, something real. Not this small-town fantasy we’ve been playing.”
Boring. After four years together, after everything we’d shared, I was just... boring.
The sound of footsteps approaching breaks through my spiraling thoughts. Mrs. Brennen appears on the patio, her face creased with concern.
“Did she leave?” she asks quietly, looking down the now-empty street.
“Yeah.” The word comes out rougher than I intend.
Mrs. Brennen studies my face for a long moment, then places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I know you love her, Luke. I know you’ve never stopped loving her.” Her voice is soft, maternal. “I’m sorry.”
“Did I do something?” The question explodes out of me, desperate and confused.
“She said I hurt her, that I did something to her, but I can’t—I don’t remember—” I run both hands through my hair, frustration making my voice rise.
“I never did anything to hurt her, Mrs. Brennen. I would never hurt her. You know that!”
Mrs. Brennen’s expression shifts, studying me with those knowing eyes that have watched me grow up. After a long moment, she sits in the chair Hazel vacated, her movements careful and deliberate.
“What exactly did she say?”
I repeat Hazel’s words as accurately as I can remember them, watching Mrs. Brennen’s face for any flicker of recognition. But she just looks sadder, more confused.
“I don’t know what happened between you two,” she says finally. “Whatever it is, you’ll have to ask her. But Luke?” She reaches over and squeezes my hand. “I’ve known you for fourteen years. I trust you. I believe you would never intentionally hurt my daughter.”
The word “intentionally” hangs between us like a loaded gun.
“But something did happen,” I say. It’s not a question.
“Something probably did happen,” she agrees. “And you two need to talk it out.” She stands, smoothing her apron. “I always believed you were good for her, you know. You made her laugh in ways I’d never seen. Made her feel safe.”
I want to point out that apparently I made her feel the opposite of safe, but I keep my mouth shut.
Mrs. Brennen pauses at the coffee shop door, turning back to me with a warm smile that somehow makes hope bloom in my chest. “You know, Luke, the magic of fall is more mysterious and powerful than most people believe. Sometimes it takes the changing of seasons to help us see things clearly.” She glances toward the maple trees lining Main Street, their leaves brilliant gold in the afternoon light.
“Something as mysterious and magical as love deserves a second chance, don’t you think? ”
The way she says it—with genuine warmth and encouragement rather than pity—makes something tight in my chest loosen slightly. Like maybe this isn’t the end of the story.
Before I can respond, she disappears inside, leaving me alone with my confusion and a small spark of hope I didn’t expect.
I need to find Hazel. I need answers.
But when I drive to the Brennen house, her car isn’t in the driveway. I check the elementary school playground where we used to swing on the old tire that used to dangle from the huge oak tree. Empty. The rope swing over Miller’s Creek where we spent countless summer afternoons. Nothing.
The old stone bridge where I caught her a few days ago feels like a lifetime. The swimming hole, the hiking trails, even the spot behind the high school where we used to sneak off during lunch—all empty.
A cold dread starts settling in my stomach. What if she left? What if she’s done with this town, done with me, done with whatever painful memories brought her back here in the first place?
I pull out my phone and call Sam, my hands shaking slightly as I dial.
“Yeah?” Sam’s voice is distracted, probably still working on some engine in his shop.
“I can’t find Hazel.”
The line goes quiet for a moment. “What do you mean you can’t find her?”
“We had a... conversation. She got upset. Drove off.” I run a hand through my hair, pacing beside my truck. “Sam, what if she left town? What if—”
“Her car won’t take her out of town,” Sam interrupts, and there’s something practical about his matter-of-fact tone. “Trust me, that death trap barely made it here from California. It’s not going anywhere long-distance.”
“Then where is she?”
“I’ll go look for her.” Sam’s voice is brisk, business-like. “You keep looking too. Cover more ground that way.”
“Sam, what happened between us? She said I hurt her, that I did something to her eight years ago, but I can’t remember—I never did anything—”
“Luke.” Sam’s voice cuts through my rambling. “Just find her first. Everything else can wait.”
The line goes dead, leaving me with more questions than answers.
* * *
I spend the next few hours driving every back road I can think of, checking all our old spots.
Nothing.
The sun is setting when my phone finally rings. Sam’s name flashes on the display.
“Did you find her?” I answer before the first ring finishes.
“Yeah.” Sam’s voice is strained, tired. “I found her.”
Relief floods through me so fast it makes me dizzy. “Is she okay? Where was she?”
“She’s safe. That’s what matters.” There’s something carefully controlled in Sam’s tone. “Luke, you need to go home.”
“What? No, I need to see her. I need to talk to her—”
“She’ll talk to you when she’s ready.”
“Sam, what did I do?” The question tears out of me, raw and desperate.
The silence stretches so long I wonder if the call dropped. When Sam finally speaks, his voice is strained, careful.
“I don’t know what to believe right now, man. But my sister needs me.”
The words hit like a slap. Sam—my best friend, the guy who’s been like a brother to me for thirteen years—doesn’t know what to believe. Which means whatever Hazel thinks I did, it’s bad enough to make even Sam question me.
“Sam—”
“Go home, Luke. Please.”
The line goes dead.
I stare at my phone, feeling like the ground has shifted beneath my feet. In the space of one afternoon, I’ve lost Hazel and potentially my best friend, and I don’t even know why.
The drive back to my cabin feels endless. Even Max and Scout seem to sense my mood, pressing close to my legs when I walk through the door but staying unusually quiet.
I pour myself a glass of whiskey and sit on my porch, watching the last light fade behind the mountains.
Sipping the whiskey, I let it burn my throat before reaching into my pocket and retrieving a ring box.
For the past eight years, it’s been tucked away in my dresser drawer where it’s been gathering dust. I wipe the dust off the box before opening it.
It’s a simple ring, the picture of which I had torn off the page of a magazine and kept under my pillow, determined to buy it for Hazel .
I’ve never been able to throw it away, couldn’t bring myself to return it.
Some pathetic part of me kept hoping she’d come back.
Now she has come back, and I don’t understand anything.
Somewhere in the forest around my cabin, an owl calls out, lonely and haunting.
The sound echoes off the mountains, and I wonder if Hazel can hear it too, wherever she is.
I wonder if she’s thinking about me at all, or if she’s just trying to figure out how to get through another day in the same town as the man who apparently broke her heart in ways I’m don’t understand.